Firelight
by Dragonmorph
Summary: Light the fire; you could begin a new life as a hero. Or a monster. (ADR/SNK crossover-ish). Warnings inside.
1. Prologue

**This is a concept I had for awhile: a crossover between the show Attack on Titan and the PC/iOS games A Dark Room. My version is solely based off of the iOS version of the game, and it also includes some insight into The Ensign, a companion iOS app to A Dark Room. Feel free to proceed if you wish, but I cannot guarantee a independent piece to be done and expose everything. There are some elements that combine both in a weird way as AoT deserves its chance to be shown in the plot using some canon events and characters. It is a concept made to be more independent than just repeating everything with AoT characters and IC dialogue, but I'm still a fairly new writer trying to entertain. After all, it's not my original idea, yes?**

**I've been considering adding Armin into the mix, but the ADR story revolves around the wanderer and the builder's relationship respectively. If there is any EreMika romance, it is mostly likely referenced, but it isn't there to take over the entire story. Their relationship is... well, you'll see ;)**

**I highly recommend playing those two games if you can. Warning: they're both addicting!**

**Warning(s): Contains some manga spoilers, dark themes, potty mouths, angst, mentions of slavery, character death, references mild violence, cannibalism (it is an AoT story after all!), etc. If any romance, there will be barely any and no smut whatsoever.**

**The entire story is written as an epistolary novel so expect some characters to think some pretty ugly thoughts. **

**EDIT: I apologize for the horrid formatting. Evidently, this site does not like aligning things to the right.**

* * *

_from the journal of an unknown soldier_

Past; Year 845, Month of War 12

Everything in this war went to hell when the first of the defectors had arrived. Nobody knew how they came into existence, but it was automatically assumed they had learned to mutate themselves into a species more like us through traitors; more deadly against the unfortunate on their path. They were bent on attacking us, but we had every right to retaliate. They attacked the remaining population of the human race, wiping most of us out completely. Only those on the front line anyway. Our commander was in the midst of the battlefield shouting commands whereas all the men attempted to dodge the red beams shot towards us and defectors with blades gleaming crimson. Fortunately, some of us survived to head home and live another day. Unfortunately, it was a humiliating retreat.

We would go home after a month, and like old traditions, we fell into a habit of expecting a welcome. It came, but faces watched; covered in soot, and eyes without hope. A woman pushed through the crowd and begged to know where her son was. The commander hesitated, but we seen his act numerous times where he pretended to act heroic. We all did to provide the civilians with ideal thoughts. Some were stupid enough to believe our act while others skeptically eyed us, knowing. I was unable to look at those knowing we were living a lie, and eventually, not even living at all.

Humans were both a forgiving and unforgiving race, but everyone was different when pushed to their limits. I seen it in the eyes of the hungry, and the eyes of the vengeful. It was nothing that could be done for them when even the selfless were hesitant in sharing their meager share of food. Most of the food ended up being given to us. The army wasn't respected enough to be earned a share without reluctance when plenty of us demanded we be fed for the strength needed to battle the wanderers. Bloodthirsty, human-like bastards. They destroyed our homes, and we wiped out their kind. It was how it normally worked between our two kinds. One of us would fall eventually, and by Jove, we prayed our victory was in our favor.

* * *

Past; Year 845, Month of War 20

The war was never in our favor.

It seemed Hades wanted us badly no matter what planet we lived on. The Scouting Legion could live for a week in paranoia. Some of us always considered different ways to calm our nerves if we haven't already. A couple of young boys took up drinking to drown their sorrows, and you could hear their whining and imagine their eyes bulging at the alcohol burning their throat. A few coughs escaped them and then they returned, but the other men huddled around them in the dorm with greedy eyes for a way of coping was to write letters, but there was no way to get them to other quarantines. I settled on sleeping my way through the break, but I could still see their faces: my friends being stabbed to death or eaten after death, and the constant cries of agony and disbelief. I couldn't sleep then, and I resorted to staring at the ceiling.

We were dispatched to the front line again, but a portion of the Garrison in our site were forced to replace the toll the war took on former soldiers. They hardly saw what we saw, and they perceived the wanderers as a minor threat. If only we could share those thoughts. Now they had to witness the ongoing fury of the defectors. The traitors remained missing, and it was suspected that the wanderers would put them to use to breed more of them and dispose of the human sire afterwards. The idea put out during the times we ate, the food either stayed down or went into the cans. The officials gave up plenty of food for days before the news reached us, and we knew why they wanted us to heal up.

On the front line, we had some strength physically, but our mentality was fragile. Our morale was even lower when the commander never came with us, but majors instead. Something was off, but I couldn't put a finger on it. It might have been the children that wandered the dusty path - three of them until we saw the marks of a defector on their bodies and knew it would be difficult to defend ourselves against kids. The majors forced us to stay until we retreated, but the children watched us and the fire that we had burning in the night. A soldier swore when he realized the poor timing with the fire; a light source that could attract defectors immediately, he explained rapidly. Something about sharing the same instinct when Prometheus gave humanity the special gift. Ironic.

My focus turned towards the shadows in the forest. I could've sworn the children were a foot shorter a minute ago.


	2. Chapter 1

**I apologize for the short chapters to come. There will be a few times that I will put two or three entries into one update, but who knows. I'm still new to the whole ****epistolary** thingamajig.

* * *

Awake. Head throbbing. Vision blurry.

_a tattered journal_

Present; Year 850, Month of Autumn 4

It was hard to explain to her what my dream meant, but I could recall bits and pieces since the time she woke me up.

* There was a forest filled with shadows.

* Of a compass; an arrow whirling in every direction.

* Giants rampaging and corpses strewn on the ground.

I told her these visions about the forest outside our little dwelling, but her response was anything but pleasing to my ears. Her dark-eyed gaze turned upon me in a flash and it was anything but happy. Exploration was a pleasure more than the kill of the creatures lurking behind the border, or the grudge I felt towards the end...of something major; a fall by traitors. Something made it difficult to recall the final days, but Mikasa recalled the better days five years before. However, she was straight forward in her words when she mentioned how worried she was every time I traveled further away from the hut. A surprise to me when we had just met and all I did was tend to a flame. Regardless, she never understood the beauty that was exploration as much as I did.

She lugged around more wood than I had, but she had idly taken them while I was asleep. I suspected. It was easier on my back with a lesser amount, but I did not let that slip. Her language, more silent than vocal, was acute as the knife hidden beneath her cloak. The knife used to be mine until she found a more proper use for it - skinning. My fists were useful, but not quite as effective as the blade gleaming beneath the moonlight as she gutted our kills from the traps she crafted using the wood we gathered hourly. The wood was not only for traps, but she repaired the holes in the hut. The wood also fed the flames that saved her life when I had learned to control it.

The meat had been charred. We ate our fill, and rested out heads against the floor. The fire was still burning and it continuously spilled through the windows. It wasn't that we were stupid enough to leave it going, but we agreed to take turns watching the fire and the shadows from a short distance. Mikasa admitted that she wanted to take the first watch, to contemplate our fine start in a new life. I didn't argue as I wanted to doze out and continue to visualize the visions to grasp an answer still so far away.

"Wanderer," she addressed me as such; a warmth in her voice. She adjusted my (former) red scarf around her face. Must've been cold. "What do you think of saving more refuges?"

It was a name she called me for the first time, but we were the only ones in the hut. Unless she was crazy, but she appeared sane the week we spent together. I had forgotten my own name in the process, but I could not tell how or why. I heard about refuges, and I wondered if I was one of them too once. If she was one of them. Compassion was far from my mind, but she could do whatever pleased her. A builder was immensely useful.

I didn't care when I wanted to rest. I'll give her an answer, and sleep this off.


End file.
